


Tilted Love

by Whuffie



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:20:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whuffie/pseuds/Whuffie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathaniel inwardly wrestles with his attachment to Sigrun while rescuing her from an attacking bookcase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tilted Love

Sigrun’s tattoos scrunched up as she scowled at the top shelf of the bookcase, staring up at a particular title which she wanted. Pushing herself up to her toes, she stretched with groping fingertips, but all she managed to do was to make a few dust mots float a onto her cheeks. Stamping both feet, she scrubbed her nose furiously, still throwing covetous glares up at the elusive book. Folding her arms over her chest, she cast around for a chair, crate, or something to stand on because the Keep was made for tall people.

Her tattoos compacted tighter into a pout as her shoulders rounded in frustration. There wasn’t anything convenient unless she wanted to go poking around Vigil’s Keep to find a ladder. There should have been chairs or tables or something to sit in, but she wasn’t in the comforts of the library. The main chamber of the Keep was more utilitarian, and she gave a few frustrated bounces. Her palm slapped against the edge of the shelves, stinging. Fingers groped across the bottoms of the books, but she couldn’t get near the topmost shelf.

Refusing to be thwarted, she put one foot on the lowest shelf and the next on the one above it. She’d have to scale it, but she would get her book one way or the other. Carefully planting her knee and using rogue’s balance, she stretched as the bookcase began to precariously tip. A brief stab of panic jabbed into her stomach. She hadn’t thought of the shelves being unstable, and it had looked solidly mountainous from her perspective on the floor. She was about to leap to safety, envisioning a shower of heavy tomes raining down on top of her head, when a pair of warm hands grabbed her underneath the arms.

“Nathaniel!” she squeaked as he steadied her. “I didn’t hear you.”

He couldn’t curb the smugness in his voice, but it was tempered with warmth. “My lady was more interested in the books.” Actually, he’d come in from a side door and deliberately been silent. He was hoping to avert disaster when crept up behind her.

“I would have done it by myself,” she informed him cheerily as he pressed his chest against her back, and warmth mingled through their shirts and tunics. Stabilized, he kept his grip on her as she continued to scramble up to the book she had so desperately wanted. Once she’d heaved it down from the shelf, she clutched it against her breasts and under crossed arms. Satisfied, she tolerated Nathaniel as he put her back down on the stone floor.

Kneeling on one knee so that he was level with her, the archer looked at the cover. “ _The Measure of a Man._ ” It sounded innocent until he realized it was an Orlesian romance. He eyed her soundlessly with an quirked eyebrow.

“This looks spicy.” She held it at arms length like a guilty treasure and blew the dust off. “I haven’t read anything from the top shelf, yet.”

Nathaniel tucked his chin to hide his smile at the enthusiastic curiosity which never seemed to dim, and wondered about the odd, affectionate warmth she inspired in him. Was it love? His parents had hated each other, and had very little consideration to spare for their children. He suspected his father tried when he was a boy, taking him on outings to places, but he was eldest. That meant he would someday be Arl and had to be properly groomed for the position. It might have been the best he was able to do, and Nathaniel always had mixed feelings about the people who reared him.

Was it possible that he was in love with Sigrun? He suspected he might be. She was the first thing he thought of when his eyes opened in the morning and last thing when his head hit the pillow to sleep. When they weren’t together on duty, he often found himself thinking of her fondly, wanting to share her company. That was love, wasn’t it? Or was it to make sure that a bookcase didn’t pelt her dangerously with bad Orlesian romances? He didn’t know, but rubbing her cheek with his thumb, he asked her, “shall we read it together tonight?”


End file.
